He presses his lips together, suddenly looking like a scolded child. It's endearing in a way I never expected.
"I wantthat too," I whisper.
The smile that breaks across his face is brilliant, warming me despite the cold.
Chapter thirty-five
Charlie
The morning light sparkles off fresh shoveled snow as Emily and I make our way down the brick-paved street of Aspen's shopping district. After the drama with Olivia and my allergic reaction, we both needed a dose of normalcy—and retail therapy seemed like the perfect medicine.
"I still can't believe I don't have Mom and Dad's gift yet," Emily groans, tugging her beanie lower against the chill. "The exchange is tonight!"
"Because you've spent almost the entire time either skiing or flirting with someone on your phone instead of shopping," I remind her with a grin.
She bumps her shoulder against mine. "Worth it. Not all of us get to go heli-skiing with our hot fake-but-not-fake boyfriend."
I genuinely smile. Last night's conversation with Bash replays in my mind—his admission that he wants to be with me, and my own vulnerable confession in return.
"Speaking of which," Emily continues, "have you wrapped his gift yet?"
I shake my head. "Not yet. I'm still trying to figure out the best way to surprise him with it."
"Another heli-skiing trip is pretty epic," she says. "I can't believe you managed to book that for after New Year's. He's going to flip."
"I hope so." I'm genuinely excited about giving him the gift. The look on his face during our first trip—that pure, unfiltered joy—is something I want to see again.
We duck into a high-end sporting goods store, where Emily immediately gravitates toward a display of designer ski gear.
"What about these for Dad?" She holds up a pair of gloves. "His old ones are looking rough."
I examine the price tag and wince. "Unless you've been secretly saving, these might be out of your budget."
She sighs dramatically. "Why do parents have to be so hard to shop for? Mom already has every sweater known to womankind, and Dad says he doesn't need anything."
"Because they're adults with jobs who buy what they want when they want it," I say. "We need to find something thoughtful that they wouldn't buy themselves."
Three stores later, Emily's enthusiasm is waning. "This is hopeless. I'm just going to get them a gift card to that steakhouse they like."
"Absolutely not. Gift cards are what you give distant cousins, not our parents." I steer her toward another boutique. "Come on, we haven't tried this one."
As we browse through handcrafted items, my phone buzzes with a text. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face when I see Bash's name.
Missing you this morning. Your dad's teaching me some pretty diabolical moves in chess. Save room for lunch?
Bash
Emily peeks over my shoulder. "Look at that dopey grin. Is that lover boy checking in?"
"Maybe," I say, typing back a quick response.
Learning my dad's tricks of the trade already? Moving fast, Montgomery. And yes to lunch. Emily's on a gift-hunting mission.
His reply comes after afew moments.
All the tips and tricks. And tell Emily I already got them something she can put her name on if she's desperate.
Bash
